Page 85 of Possession

But it’s time.

After we shower and dress, Roman takes my hand and leads me out of the room. It’s morning, and I can hear people in the kitchen.

We arrive to find Quinn with his arm in a sling drinking coffee while Vitali stirs scrambled eggs and Sasha butters some toast.

I glance at Roman. This is a lot of people for our first venture out in two days.

“We can go back,” I whisper.

“No,” Roman says, squeezing my hand. “This is our family.”

Vitali doesn’t look up from his work, but I can see the smile that tugs at his lips. “The coffee’s fresh,” he says.

Roman goes to fill two mugs while I snatch a piece of toast from Sasha’s stack.

“Thieves lose fingers,” she warns.

“You’re using a butter knife,” I point out, trying not to show just how delighted I am that she’s teasing me.

“You haven’t seen the things I can do with a butter knife.”

I snort and grab another piece of toast for Roman. He’s watching our exchange, but he’s doing fine. He’s doing so well, really, that I can’t quite believe it.

I’m doing well too, I guess. I feel safe. I feelwelcome. It makes my throat tighten so much that I have to turn away.

Roman comes to stand beside me, his body touching mine, until I’m able to breathe. I take the cup of coffee from him and hand him a piece of toast.

We go to sit at the table with Quinn, who looks kind of grumpy.

“Are you in pain?” I ask him.

“No,” he replies a little sharply. “I keep telling everyone—”

“That you’re fine,” Vitali finishes for him. “Yes, we know you think that.”

Quinn sighs.

I settle back in my chair as I take in the atmosphere of the kitchen. Four killers and me. What a weird and wonderful little family.

Sasha puts the stack of toast on the table then grabs a platter of bacon from the oven. As Vitali puts the skillet of eggs on the table, Roman says, “Vitali, I need your help.”

Vitali stills slightly, clearly surprised, but he says without hesitation, “Sure.” Then, “What for?”

“I need to take a trip to New York. I need to kill Lucas’s stepfather.”

Vitali pulls out his phone and seems to check his schedule. “I have time today.”

“Great. Thanks.”

Vitali asks, “Lucas, are you coming?”

My heart skips. I hadn’t considered that. I look at Roman. His expression is neutral. It’s up to me.

I want them to do this—I’m vengeful enough, it seems, to feel that Frank deserves it—but I realize that I don’t need to be there. That’s one advantage, I guess, of a family of killers. They’ll take care of this for me.

So I say, “No thanks. But I’ll have cookies ready when you get back.”